TMNT Ficlets and Drabbles
by Lexifer666
Summary: A place to put all my random little snippets, one-offs and Tumblr prompts. I do not own TMNT. Everything will be rated separately, will go from K-M. Newest ficlet: 2007 Leo mentoring April.
1. Fever (Rated K)

**I merged 2 prompts for this one: anon's 'Sometimes even the most patient of souls need relief, and omobolasire1 2k14 April/Don - devotion. I hope you like it and it's not too much of a stretch from what you had in mind!**

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><p><strong>Rated: K<strong>

**Words: 712**

**FEVER**

"They left you here alone, like _this_?" April asked in disbelief, one hand planted firmly on her hip.

Donatello was in his strange concave bed, his lanky arms and legs sprawled out and dangling over the edges. "It's fine," he rasped. "I couldn't go with them like this and they'll be home by dawn."

April shook her head. She had no doubt in her mind that when one of the others was sick, Donatello took care of them. In fact, he probably hadn't been doted on _at all_ since he was a child.

"I'll stay with you a little while," she said, inching closer to the bed to check on his condition. "What can I get you?"

"You actually are the best-suited caregiver to us when we fall ill," he mused, looking up at the ceiling blankly. "The rare time a virus or bacteria finds our unique physiology an ideal host for infection, we are highly contagious to one another, but the chances of it being zoonotic to humans is," he paused, trying to do the calculations in his head. The wave of dizziness he was overcome with defeated him, and he digressed to himself. "Er, it's extremely low."

She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze to ground him and it was startlingly hot. She noticed the glassy-eyed smile he tipped her way, the few beads of sweat on his brow and the flushed hue of his face. Even more telling was his casual reaction to her touch, his complete lack of shyness to her seeing him without his mask or gear. "You have a fever, don't you?"

"Also known as pyrexia, hyperthermia…"

"Donnie," she said, cutting him off. "What is your normal temperature even supposed to be? Is there a thermometer around here somewhere? Did you take anything for it?"

"Most fevers resolve themselves without treatment."

April rolled her eyes. "I'll take that as a no."

"Just a matter of rest and fluids," he informed her, simultaneously reminding himself that the large plastic water bottle resting by his side needed to be refilled. He groped around for it blindly, finally finding it within the folds of his twisted blanket.

"What are you…?" April asked in alarm as he rose from his bed, towered over her and swayed unsteadily. "No, no, no…"

He must have seen the way her life flashed before her eyes because he let April shift him back and sat on the bed. She took his water bottle and refilled it in the kitchen, wet a cloth and searched through her purse for Ibuprofen. By the time she returned he was hacking up a storm, his chest heaving and the bed looking like it was going to collapse beneath him.

April pulled up a chair next to him and and rubbed the rough scales of his forearm as he rode out the coughing jag. He groaned miserably when it was finally over and accepted the water April offered him gratefully. He managed to wash away the scratchy, painful feeling for the whole few seconds it took to swallow.

"Now these," April ordered, dropping some pills into his hands.

"April, it's really not necessary," he countered hoarsely.

"I am not going to let you suffer needlessly under my watch."

"But there is no definitive…."

"Now," she said firmly, fixing him with a stubborn glare.

Donatello sighed and knocked them back without further resistance. Too tired and delirious to put any more effort into fending her off, he sunk back into a prone position once again, pulling his blanket up and over him. His eyes opened in surprise when he felt the delicious chill of a wet cloth on his forehead. April had a hand on his shoulder and every now and then her fingers would trace circles absently against his skin. His eyelids heavy, he allowed himself to be lulled into a restful sleep under the watchful eye of his hogosha.


	2. Don't Tell (Rated M)

**Prompt for insertpointlessquotehere —- It's clichè but maybe a mikey x reader watching a scary movie, some nsfw thrown in perhaps .. X**

**I'm always the most nervous posting stuff like this, I usually sit on it for weeks, but here ya go. *ducks and hides***

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><p><strong>Rated: M<strong>

**Words: 1,737  
><strong>

**DON'T TELL**

I had been really excited to spend some time alone with Michelangelo, but the evening wasn't exactly progressing the way I expected. I had been _so_ sure that he would get a kick out this movie, the first sequel to Friday the 13th. He claimed to love horror movies, hadn't seen this one and it's a _classic_. On screen Jason continued his rein of terror through the forest and campground, while Mikey sunk lower and lower on the couch, seemingly disinterested.

I frown at my apparent poor choice of entertainment as I recline on the old couch with my feet up on the coffee table under a blanket. The farmhouse is drafty and Mikey has his own quilt, but he's been snuggling closer to me tentatively for the last half an hour. Finally, with a heavy breath he lays fully across the couch with his head on my lap. I hope he isn't too bored. I can't resist draping my arm over his shell and stroking his shoulder. He shivers ever so slightly and seems to grow heavier, like he had somehow settled even further into me. This is kind of nice, at least, but once the heroine of the movie stumbles upon the alter to Jason's mom, he rolls over so his shell is to the TV.

"Should I turn it off?" I ask, confused.

His brow knits and he pulls his blanket up to his chin. "If you want."

"Are you…scared?" I can't believe I didn't catch on earlier, but now that I can see his troubled blue eyes I feel horrible.

"Don't tell my brothers," he pleads. "This movie is…well, let's just say I know how it ends."

"The supposed defeat of Jason before he returns for 10 more sequels?"

"With my family getting hurt. Again."

I blink in confusion. Mikey is as cute as pie, but some of the things he says are really out of context. "Oh…" Something in this movie must have reminded him of a bad experience.

I fish around the mess of pop cans and empty popcorn bowls to find the remote and turn the TV off. Instantly we are enveloped in darkness. I cup his cheek in my hand, then follow the contour of his face up and past his bandana, petting the top of his head comfortingly. I had no way of knowing but I still feel like an ass.

I feel the hand clutching his blanket unfist and curl around my lower back as he nuzzles his face into my tummy. A rabble of butterflies erupts from the point of contact to take flight up into my stomach and chest. I've never been uncomfortable with how affectionate he is, but something is different tonight. The silliness has left him, he's serious and clinging to me with a neediness I haven't felt before. His face glides up my abdomen to between my breasts suddenly, sending shivers down my spine. I look down at him in shock stupidly, as if I've developed night vision in the last 30 seconds.

His lips brush the bare skin just above the neckline of my flannel nightgown, then he goes completely still with his face resting against my chest. My brain kicks in and realizes that he is waiting for a response from me. I'm lying if I try to convince myself that I'm not smitten with him. He was the first one to accept me as a friend, completely and wholeheartedly. It was impossible not to get caught up in his optimism and zest for life, even in the face of all the terrifying things going on in New York and within these woods. I've seen how Donnie and April are with each other, wondered if they were actually _together_ and how that would work.

Yes, my mind has wandered down some strange paths in recent weeks and I'm excited and curious about how this might play out. I pull my knees up and get my feet off the table, sitting up a bit straighter and he retreats from me. I swivel around on my cushion, my legs hopelessly tangled up in the old quilt. I can still feel his weight across from me and hear his light, nervous exhales, so he hasn't 'ninja vanished' on me. I lean forward slightly, reaching out into the darkness to find him.

I end up poking him in the face and we both jump a little, startled, then laugh quietly. Not waking the others has just jumped to the top of my priority list. A moment later his breath puffs across my face and it smells like popcorn. It makes me smile and I gently dip my face forward. My lips touch…his snout? We adjust and suddenly I taste salty butter and it feels like all of those butterflies have combusted simultaneously within me. Michelangelo takes over the kiss insistently, pushing me gently but purposefully until he is hovering above me. I never thought he would be this bold and I love it. I run my hands up his arms, appreciating the finely toned muscle, stopping to squeeze his biceps and moan against his mouth as he lightly suckles my lower lip.

He paws at the blankets, struggling to free us from the jumble of soft fabric that separates us. As my legs are revealed slowly to the chilled air, his hand brushes against my calves and I whimper. He hears it and gives a low grunt with his last triumphant pull, both blankets spilling off of the couch and onto the floor. I feel strangely bared with my nightgown bunched up around my hips despite Mikey not being able to see me.

I'm waiting to feel his kiss again with parted lips, waiting for the press of his hard body on mine. Instead a probing hand searches out my leg, trailing a heated line up my shin, over my kneecap where he pauses to circle the point of it before continuing up my thigh. I can't help wriggling restlessly as he reaches the seam of my panties, silently encouraging his hand to touch me more intimately. Again, he surprises me, taking hold of the soft flannel hem of my nightgown and pushing it up. His breathing is sounding as ragged as my own and I tremble softly in anticipation. I don't know what his intent is but I need him touching me and I impatiently hike my hips up to free the back of my gown, then yank it off over my head unceremoniously.

The cool air instantly sends a run of goosebumps over my body but Mikey's hands have disappeared. Shit, maybe this was a bit presumptuous and I've taken it too far, too quickly. I bite my lip nervously. Just as I am going to say something and get dressed he plants a warm kiss just below my navel. I make a low, contented noise in the back of my throat, thrilled that he was just teasing me and not freaking out. In the pitch I have no way of knowing where his mouth will land next – lips, breast, stomach, thigh, ribs. He smiles against my skin every time I arch into him, his tongue leaving blooms of chill to dry along my body in it's wake.

He keeps circling back, tantalizingly close to the line of my panties before fluttering off again. I'm getting impatient with this little game of his. I'm so wet and wound so tight I might loose it the second he touches my clit. _If_ he ever does. Maybe he needs some gentle guidance or…

_SNAP!_

…maybe not. He's just snapped my undies with his teeth. I giggle and give his shoulder a playful shove with my foot. He catches my ankle in an iron grip, starts sliding my panties down my legs with his other hand, yanking them off carefully without freeing me. Gingerly he pushes my leg, his hand sliding down from ankle to knee to inner thigh until my leg is pressed against me, my knee just above my own shoulder. I'm completely open and vulnerable, shaking with need now. His grip on my thigh tightens and his mouth covers my entire pussy roughly. I clamp a hand over my mouth. Holy fuck, the things his tongue can do! And it's so_ big_.

The pressure lets up a bit, and he shifts his head so he can focus on that little bud of nerves, making me want to scream his name into the black of the night. But that would put an end to this blissful encounter so I breathe heavily through my nose and moan into my hands. The large, blunt tip of his finger starts to tease me, caressing the wet folds as his tongue continues to expertly work my clit. His finger is as wide as my entire hand and I'm concerned where he is going with this. He senses me tense up and instantly the movement stops, the hand on my thigh lightens it's grip and his thumb strokes it gently, soothingly.

His head shifts again and the angle his tongue manages to flick at makes me see star-bursts behind my eyes. When I buck against him I understand what he was doing. His fingertip is moving slowly in a circular motion as I grind against it, providing extra pressure only. The sense of euphoria is building within me and I can't keep my hips from moving in delight to their own rhythm. Somehow Mikey manages to zero in on that tiny bundle with his large mouth and suck in sharply. I can barely contain the noise that tries to rip from me as my legs stiffen and my toes curl. Wave after wave of ecstasy sends an intense barrage through my body, until I am panting and trying to regain my breath. He pulls a blanket up to cover us as he tugs me into his embrace to snuggle.

"Mikey, how did you…? Where did you learn…?" I stutter incoherently.

He huffs into my hair, amused. "Don't tell my brothers…"


	3. Lucky (Rated M)

**evelynaudette said: Hmmm a nsfw dominating Donatello x reader … cause reasons :)**

** I do 'x reader' in first person**

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><p><strong>Rated: M<br>**

**Words: 1,241**

**LUCKY**

My cellphone buzzes across my dresser as I struggle to tie up my hair into two matching ribbons. I hit speaker phone quickly as I gather up the remaining half of my locks and look into the mirror. "Hey, babe."

"Sorry I'm late, but I'm on my way." Donatello's voice sounded a bit strained.

"Run into some trouble?" I ask, concerned.

"Nothing major," he assures me.

I hear him huff and grunt on the other end of the line and realize he's running, probably jumping rooftops in that casual, death-defying way of his. Knowing he is rushing here for our date night, for _me_, gives me a little thrill of delight. "I got a bottle of that merlot you like to go with dinner."

He chortles adorably. "Are you planning on getting me drunk tonight?" he asks with mock suspicion.

"Among other things," I say, giving my head a gentle shake to test the flirtatious buoyancy of my pigtails.

"Oh? Do tell," Don says in a huskier voice, his breathing heavy.

He must be sprinting across the city. The only time I've ever really heard him out of breath is after a vigorous night in my bed. The mental images _that_ thought induces makes me yearn for his touch and suddenly he can't get here soon enough. "It's a surprise," I answer suggestively, running my hands over my breasts, smoothing out my blouse slowly before tucking it into my old high school kilt. I was impressed I could still fit into it, but if it had been scandalously short when I was in high school, it was downright criminal now. The green plaid garment barely covers my ass, and if I bend over my innocent-looking white panties are completely exposed.

On the other end of the line Donatello groans, making me clench my thighs together and fidget in anticipation. "Give me a hint," he huffs.

I couldn't resist. "RPG."

"Role playing game?" he asks in confusion, and his voice is coming from the phone and through the sliding door off my living room balcony. I rush out of my bedroom to greet him and he freezes at the sight of me. "Oh," he says into the headset, his eyes widening.

I giggle and cross my hands behind my back, pretending to be shy. We've been together for weeks, but he still isn't comfortable initiating intimacy. He has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that I'm just as enthralled with his mythic being as he is with my normalcy. He pulls his headset off slowly in wonderment, his eyes blazing with lust. He really knows how to make a gal feel beautiful.

"I think I need some extra credit, Professor Hamato," I say with a pout, hoping he would slip into the authoritative role.

Sometimes I forget how fast they are. I barely have time to blink before Don is across my living room and pressing me to his hard, flat chest. I wrap my arms around his neck as I feel his mouth hot against my chest, my throat. His muscles are warm and loose, and he'd already worked up a light sweat on his way here. He turns us and backs me towards the couch.

"How did you know?" he asks in my ear with a ragged breath, making me shiver.

"Lucky guess?" I manage before he nips my earlobe and I loose the ability to form words.

Don is rumbling deep in his chest already, something he usually tries to avoid doing out of embarrassment of sounding too animalistic. He thinks I'm just trying to make him feel better when I say I love it. He sets me on the couch, turning me sharply around so I am kneeling on it directly in front of where he stands. He's hard already, I can feel him pressing against my thigh as his hands struggle to undo the buttons of my blouse blindly. He growls and I feel a sharp tug and the sound of the buttons popping as he simply rips it open. My hands go behind my back cooperatively, allowing him to pull the satin shirt down my arms. He gives the fabric a twist at my wrists and tugs, forcing me to lean back against his plastron. He nibbles my neck and my shoulders from behind, rubbing himself against my trapped hands and ruined white satin.

I had no idea Don had a fetish for naughty schoolgirls. I had hoped for him to play along and take the lead tonight, and I got way more than I bargained for. He frees my hands and tosses my shirt, but I keep them behind me and continue stroking him until he pushes me forward and leans over me. I brace myself against the back of the couch with my forearms and he moans at the loss of contact. My panties get yanked down my thighs to my knees. Don's hands grip the couch on either side of me, his arms pressing in along my ribs, his face buried in my neck. I am completely surrounded by him and I push my bottom back against him desperately, shattering the last bit of control within him. I gasp as I feel his teeth close around the nape of my neck and his hips jerk forward. He enters me roughly and I cry out, my pleasure slightly spiced with pain. I shift my knees further apart on the couch cushions and his second thrust fills me in earnest.

I arch my back into him as he immediately picks up a frenetic pace, growling gently into my shoulders between love bites. Everything happened so fast but I feel the pressure building steadily within me, unable to control or delay the tide of sensation. I moan as the cotton pleats of my skirt tickle gently across my thighs with each impact. When he slows down almost to a complete halt I want to scream for him to keep going. He lets go of the back of the couch and runs his hands along my sides as he stands straight behind me, panting. He squeezes my ass bruisingly hard, making me writhe and clench around him in encouragement. He grabs either side of the waistband of my kilt and I shudder in excitement. He uses it to rock me back against him before holding me firmly in place for a quick, pounding barrage.

All I can do is hang on to the couch for dear life and let him take me over. We are getting obscenely loud to the point that my neighbor is rapping on the shared wall between our apartments, but I just can't hold it in. His name rolls off my tongue as I begin to feel euphoric and weightless. He tenses, drawing me forcefully by my kilt into a final thrust as he shouts in completion. I cum right after him with dizzying intensity, my whole body tingling, shaking and reveling in orgasmic bliss.

I collapse across the couch on my belly when he parts from me and sits on the floor. He looks happy and a bit sheepish as he tries to catch his breath. All I can do is offer him a dopey, satisfied smile as I wonder what other kinks I've yet to uncover.


	4. The Race (Rated K)

**Request for irohahoheto - I really like the interaction between Mikey and Raph, so I was thinking a fic where they cook or do something different together would be funny and heart worming at the same time.**

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><p><strong>Rated: K<br>**

**Words: 1,389  
><strong>

**THE RACE  
><strong>

"I'm the fastest one outta all of you," Michelangelo bragged, rescuing his charred marshmallow from the bonfire.

"Also the loudest," Leonardo pointed out, making the others laugh.

"I've outrun ya plenty of times," Raphael scoffed.

Casey snickered and poked at the fire, sending smoldering orange sparks billowing up into the early dusk. Donatello and April speared fresh marshmallows on their sharpened sticks and sighed in unison.

"No way," Mikey insisted around a mouthful of gooey marshmallow. "I run faster, I board faster, I even _swim_ faster," he said, gesturing to the dirt pathway that meandered through the trees to a large pond.

Raphael crossed his arms over his chest, green eyes narrowing. "You have _never _been able to swim faster then me and you know it."

Michelangelo jumped up from his log and threw down his roasting stick. "You have insulted my honor as a turtle," he declared dramatically. "I challenge you to a duel; first one to cross the pond wins."

"That's not a duel, that's a race," Donatello groaned.

"You're on," Raphael said over Don, his finger jutting out to point at Mikey. He then took the iron poker from Casey, drawing a starting line across the dirt.

"Oh, I've always wanted to do this!" April said excitedly, finding a large white napkin and situating herself a few feet down their 'track'.

Michelangelo and Raphael hastily shed their bulky padding and weapons before toeing the start line, their muscles coiled, eyes intent and smiles wide. April took another step back just to be safe and rose the napkin. "Ready? Go!" she yelled, twirling the white fabric over her head.

They flew by her in a dead sprint, leaving April breathless for a moment in their wake. With no need to be silent, their combined 500lbs of shell and muscle absolutely thundered down the trail, tearing up the hard-packed dirt beneath their bare feet. They disappeared into the din, the pounding echo of their footsteps in the distance followed by whoops and splashes.

**oooooo  
><strong>

Raphael and Michelangelo were matched with one another as they pitched themselves off of the dock and into the semi-darkness. Their heads and shoulders emerged again almost immediately, sputtering and laughing as the early September chill momentarily shocked their bodies. The pond was fed by a small stream nearby, keeping the water fresh and crisp. They grinned at one another, took deep breaths and dove.

Between the four turtles, it was Raphael and Michelangelo whom spent the most time in the water, unable to resist the lure of being weightless and free, so literally in their element. Don and Leo seemed to be more grounded, preferring the comfort of something solid to hold onto in their tumultuous lives.

Mikey flanked Raph as they surged gracefully underwater, heading directly for the opposite bank. The harder they pushed their bodies the quicker their reserves of air needed to be replenished. The brothers rose towards the glass-calm surface, shattering the reflection of the moon against the water to take a breath. They were already almost halfway across and Raphael smirked as he kicked down and forward forcefully. He had at least a five foot lead on Michelangelo, and Raph was going to make him eat his words.

A star burst of silver bloomed directly in front of Raphael as he startled a school of fish, scattering them in every direction as he coasted by. He powered forward determinedly, peering back over his shoulder after a short time to check if Mikey had gained on him. He couldn't see him at all. Raphael twirled mid stroke, turning so he was swimming backwards and looking past his feet. No Mikey. It was impossible for him to have gained such a lead in the short time Michelangelo had been out of sight.

Worry gnawed at Raphael's chest and he paused, hanging suspended in the cool liquid, alone. The sky was still murky shades of gray in the dusk, the stars not quite shining. Shadows and reflections blended together under the water and despite his night vision, it was difficult for him to see into the distance.

Just as fear startled to settle into him, Raphael caught movement from the corner of his eye further below. Mikey was circling, practically invisible until he turned his lighter plastron upward or to the side. Raphael blew out a few bubbles from his nostrils angrily, gliding into the depths and halfway ready to throttle his brother. Who just disappears in the middle of a race without warning?

_Someone easily distracted by shiny objects,_ Raph answered himself sourly. Michelangelo had followed the school of fish to where they took shelter in some tall plants and wood. He flitted around the structure, the fish themselves mostly staying within the dark caverns until Mikey tempted them out with his orange bandana. Some followed or picked at it curiously, while others fled lazily to opposite side, as if they sensed the complete lack of predatory instinct in his brother, who was now upside down and disappearing deeper into the mess of greenery.

Raphael let himself drift silently over, a reluctant smile on his face. _Only Mikey._ It turned out that the heap of driftwood was actually an old fishing boat, likely given a proper burial long ago when it had ceased to be water-worthy. Mikey popped up in front of him, eyes wide and excited, a grin on his face and tiny bubbles ghosting up from between his teeth. He flailed, pointed and grabbed Raphael's shoulder, inviting him to explore as if he'd found the ruins of the Titanic. Raph hadn't seen Michelangelo this excited about anything since Leo had woken up, so he humored him, letting Mikey pull him along.

Leo would never bother with this; the only time he came to the water was for muscle strengthening exercises. Don would probably unintentionally ruin the moment, taking samples and scaring off the fauna. Raphael just let himself be, keeping his movements fluid and calm, saving his breath as long as possible.

It _was_ kind of cool. The boat had caved in here and there, creating a sanctuary for all sorts of creatures. Tall weeds and moss grew over and around it, hiding it from the view of the casual passer-by. Mikey picked up a little crayfish and danced it around, undoubtedly singing "_Under the Sea_" in his head, making Raphael struggle not to laugh. It pinched the pad of his thumb and wouldn't let go, making Mikey frantically wave his arm in slow, jerky movements. Raph clamped his hands over his mouth to prevent himself from inhaling after sharply blowing out a mirthful wall of bubbles.

Michelangelo grinned sheepishly when the tiny crustacean finally released him, instead going back to teasing the fish and actually getting three or four to follow after his orange mask. Raph held onto the boat, enjoying the quiet and watching Mikey entice fish, of all things, into playing with him.

They had been through a lot since coming to the cabin, from not knowing if Leo would ever come back and coping with their grief to the particularly gruesome mutants they had fought. Raphael felt the slight caress of the water, the brush of weeds over his legs and shell, smiling as a few fish flitted around his head to pick at the frayed red tails of his bandana. A strong sense of belonging swept over him, for once feeling like a natural part of something.

They needed to take a breath and reluctantly ascended together, Mikey instantly bursting into chatter. He was trying to landmark where his sunken 'ship' was so he could return and look for treasure during the day.

Raphael rolled onto his shell with outstretched arms, straightening out to float, head tilted back. The sky was darker and the stars were shining in earnest, millions of them. There had never been a view like this in the city, even on the clearest night. Raphael kicked his feet leisurely, his ears underwater and muffling his brother's voice. Finally he pointed up, catching Michelangelo's attention.

"_Woooow,_" Mikey drew out appreciatively after mimicking Raph's position. "Sorry I messed up the race, bro."

Raphael stayed silent, enjoying the moment. He was going to tell the others Michelangelo had won anyway.


	5. Balance (Rated K)

**thoughtmirror asked: April and Leo from the 2007 movie perhaps or 2003 for a drabble and the prompt of him training her how to defend herself physically/mentally/emotionally?**

Alright! This one was challenging, because the 2k3 turtles refused to train April and 2k7 April is a very capable fighter. So I tried to go with some 'next level' training that incorporated a spiritual element.

Takes place a few weeks after the 2007 movie.

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><p><strong> Word count: 1,370<strong>

**Rating: K**

**BALANCE**

April knocked on the dojo door, waiting to hear Leonardo's voice call out that it was safe for her to enter before doing so. He was sitting in the center of a circle of lit candles, eyes closed, then rose and spun, one katana extended, extinguishing all the flames with one swift movement.

"Show off," April joked.

Leonardo smirked and tilted his head in her direction. She was in her kunoichi gear, her own sword strapped to her back.

"Master Splinter said you wouldn't mind if I joined you," her voice lilting at the end to make the statement sound like a question.

"Of course not," he assured her, a full smile coming to his face.

"I'm not used to sharing the dojo first thing in the morning anymore," she said off-handedly as she started some stretches. "Your brothers weren't much for morning workouts while you were gone."

"Something that will change shortly," Leo said dryly. "It's nice to know that _someone_ took their training seriously while I was away."

April reached for her toes, grabbing them and holding the stretch. "Yeah well, never know when you guys are gonna need to call in the big guns. I have to be ready," she snickered to herself.

Leonardo chuckled and shook his head, turning to relight his candles as she went through her warm-up. "You did great, April. We're lucky to have you."

"Aw, thanks, Leo," she said, genuinely touched. She knew he was referring to their battle against the Stone Generals a few weeks ago. He was still trying to work through being back and reconnecting with his family after his long stint in South America, his rocky return and his subsequent drugging and imprisonment. He had an edge to his movements that told April he was restless and ready to get his brothers back into the swing of things.

Leo finished lighting the candles and turned to her. "Do you want to try?"

"Sure, why not?" April grinned and stepped carefully into the ring of fire. Unsheathing her katana,she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, swirling her sword silently in a 360 degree sweep. The flames danced and flickered, but none went out. She made a face. "So what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. It was proper form," Leo told her. "The blade is too sharp, it leaves only the smallest displacement in the air behind it. It's your _chi _that snuffs the fire."

"Ah, this is the 'be one with your weapon' lesson, isn't it?"

"Close." Leo approached and extended his hands, asking her to pass over her katana. "I'm sure you know that in Shinto, everything possesses a spirit, including swords. It was believed that without proper respect and balance between you and your weapon and within yourself, those spirits could become corrupted or willful. Spending a year with only my katanas as company gave me a much stronger appreciation for that tenet."

He turned the blade over lovingly in his grip before continuing. "Anyone can learn to use a tool, but to truly master the way of the sword, you must _become_ it's Master."

April couldn't help but beam with pride over her most cherished possession. It was over 500 years old, an antique she had found at a bargain when purchasing a lot from an estate auction. After the war, American soldiers had been sent home from Japan with katanas as keepsakes. The rest had been destroyed, the generals not knowing the difference between priceless artifacts and standard issue military swords. It was still difficult to tell to the untrained eye, but April's were sharp and knowledgeable and so were Leo's.

"I suppose you are going to teach me to become it's master?" she teased.

He shrugged, his face serious. "If you like," he said softly, passing it back to her.

April stopped toying with him. "Really? That would be amazing!"

Leonardo nodded and gestured for her to follow him to the opposite side of the dojo. "Do some katas," he instructed. "Whichever ones you feel most comfortable with or enjoy the most, and keep going until I tell you to stop."

At first, April was self-conscious; her katas must look like child's play to him. She chose her four favorite series of forms and Leo watched her silently.

He waited to speak until her movements flowed together in an endless loop of lithe limbs and glinting metal. He refrained from nit-picking small details of her position; he needed her feeling comfortable and relaxed. She looked content in her art, her mind loose and receptive. "The spirit of your katana is ancient and unbalanced. It has been a samurai's weapon, it has seen battle and spilled blood. Likely it became a family heirloom the next few generations before being ripped away from it's Master's lineage. Now there is you. What do you want from it?"

April considered as she flowed through her movements, Leo's voice lulling her into a serene state. "I want to defend myself and my loved ones." She faltered as his words sunk in further. "But when you put it like that I feel a bit inadequate for this sword, to be honest."

"Nonsense," Leonardo dismissed. "You have cut monsters from another dimension with that blade. That is potent, April, worlds away from slaying 16th century bandits and ninja."

It struck her that Leo wasn't merely a ninja the way his brothers were. By choosing a katana as his main weapon and trying to abide by the code of Bushido, he had merged two literally warring philosophies within him. No one, perhaps not even Splinter, knew more about inner balance than Leonardo.

When the tension left her again he continued. "Let your _chi_ flow into the blade, picture it glowing all the way to the tip. Then let that energy flow back into you, your own essence and the swords."

The heat her body was generating with exertion warmed the hilt and made it easy to visualize her _chi_ tumbling down the length of the blade. Instead of tiring, April found a new confidence that energized her and made her weapon feel lighter in her hand. Spontaneously she broke into a more difficult series of katas, moving faster and with more flair, a smile on her lips. She felt a stirring in her chest and focused it into her katana before imagining drawing it back out. The deadly legacy of this sword became clear, and her control over it made her feel strong. She was worthy of this blade and it was worthy of her.

"Okay, stop," Leo said. April beamed at him breathlessly. "Now, go sit," he added gently, pointing at his circle.

She sat in the middle as he had been, holding the katana across her lap in a meditative pose. Her eyes fell shut and she listened for the soothing sound of his voice.

"Do you feel that you and the sword are in balance? Any past misdeeds or bitterness behind you...a clean slate?"

Her pulse thrummed in her palms where the warm sides of the blade rested delicately against her skin. "I think so."

"Tell it what you will accomplish together. It doesn't have to be out loud."

April inclined her head and sent her thoughts towards the sword as if silently communicating with a living being. _We will protect them. You will defend me and I will take care of you. We will be brave in the face of whatever creature comes at us._

April stood, feeling the vaguest stir of her aura around her. She went into ready stance and rotated gracefully, unconcerned with her hands or her sword, her thoughts beyond the blade and willing her _chi_ through the flames. The final two-thirds of the candles went dark at the end of her arc.

"Hey, I got some!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"You always were a good student," Leo said, his smile becoming wry. "You know, I could probably make time in my hectic schedule to work with you once a week..."

April crossed over the smoking section of candles and rested her hand on his shoulder, honored that he would be willing to continue her training. "I'm really glad you came back, Leo."

* * *

><p>Shout out to Novus Ordo Seclorum, thanks for the encouragement :)<p> 


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